


literally the worst design scheme

by 777335



Series: yuri can't even with otabek sometimes [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Best Friends, Gen, Happy, Happy Ending, M/M, Swearing, but very emphatic, i just imagine all their conversations are bizarre, more of my weird head canon, these two little best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/777335/pseuds/777335
Summary: “Okay, so,” Yuuri responds, adjusting his yukata sleeves, “I understand this is a hypothetical situation where you are billionaires and are discussing how you would decorate your eight bedroo-”“Nine bedroom.” Yuri corrects, furiously.“Six full baths.” Otabek adds, a whisper of irritation in his voice, “and a library with a balcony.”--have you and your best friends ever accidentally done the thing where suddenly you're having a fight about a hypothetical situation and no one's sure how you got here but everyone refuses to back down?  because yuri is quick tempered and prone to fighting and otabek is competitive and stubborn and i'm sure they have.  thankfully yuuri and victor are there. (or maybe just thankfully yuuri is there, victor thinks this shit is hysterical.)(this follows in my head canon mentioned previously that otabek is secretly ridiculous but his resting blank face totally covers for him while in public. otayuri, best friends 5eva.)





	literally the worst design scheme

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuses for this? they in hasetsu with victori and yuuri, for...vacation.

"You know what, Yura," Otabek finally says, putting his chopsticks down with more force than is maybe _strictly_ necessary, "let's just cross this bridge when we come to it, okay?"  
  
"Great." Yuri hisses. He is unreasonably furious.  
  
"Perfect." Otabek responds. His eyes are like ice.  
  
"Fantastic." Yuri mimics pettily, scrunching up his nose.

"Yura.” Otabek says, way too evenly.

“Beka.” Yuri chants back.  
  
There is a silence.  
  
It’s inevitable, since they are both extremely competitive people, that sometimes they butt heads. It’s happened before. Yuri occasionally maybe has a short temper (objectively, you could possibly remove the ' _occasionally maybe'_ from that sentence but Yuri doesn't bother with the semantics of it). And they’re both stubborn, so they tend to dig in to their opinions and double down when it's not, strictly speaking, " _necessary"._ Not to mention that Otabek's voice lends itself to him stating his opinions as though they are facts, and maybe Yuri sometimes responds a little heatedly and it sort of, yanno, devolves, although always in good nature.  Usually.   

That aside, right now, Yuri feels, like, actually heated. He very rarely wants to kick things or people when he's around Otabek though, so he just settles for glowering.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Yuri can see Yuuri looking at them from the table next to theirs, his face a portrait of worry. Victor blithely pours some more beer, unconcerned with what is occurring between Yuri and Otabek.  Yuuri looks from them to Victor, then pushes his glasses up on his nose and reaches his hands out, placates the air around Yuri and Otabek’s table gently, as though he is trying to calm a frightened animal.  
  
"Okay, guys, let's all, um, take a second."  
  
Yuri whips his head around and gives Yuuri the darkest look he can.  
  
“Stay out of it, Katsudon.” He snarls.  
  
Yuuri blanches and turns to Victor, who is soundlessly shaking with laughter, holding his glass of beer in the air, halfway to his mouth.  
  
“Victor.” Yuuri half-hisses, half-pleads. “Do something.”  
  
“I think they’re fine.” Victor responds merrily, smiling widely at Yuuri. “They'll work it out, they're friends.  You're okay, right, Yurio? Otabek?”  
  
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Yuri responds, at the same time that Otabek says-  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
Yuri narrows his eyes. They eat in mostly quiet for a few minutes, the thick air punctuated with only Yuuri’s insistent and hushed whispers to Victor, and Victor replying, in what Yuri can tell is horrifically accented Japanese, _dai-jou-bu, dai-jou-bu_ , waving his free hand in front of Yuuri’s face, as though that will dispel the man’s horror.  
  
Otabek takes another calm bite and Yuri can't take it anymore.  
  
"I am just fucking saying,” he slams his fork down on the table, “that what you are suggesting as a design scheme, would make our house look like some sort of IKEA knock-off and it’s not even like IKEA is fucking nice in the first place so I fail to see wh--.”  
  
“It would not.” Otabek cuts him off, which is astonishing because Otabek _never_ cuts Yuri off, he always lets him say his piece. Even when Yuri is being a little (objectively, one might describe it as ‘ _unnecessarily_ ’, but, again, semantics) selfish and petty, Otabek just stares at him until he stops and then asks ' _are you finished'_.

“I said,” Otabek adds, with a bit more intensity, “a simplistic and almost light, not in color but in density, interior scheme, one that gives buoyancy and good acoustics. An urban modern, with hints of Scandinavian, aesthetic. If all you can think is IKEA, then it sounds like you lack imagination.”  
  
“La- lack imagination! I—lack imagination!” Yuri sputters, indignant. “I choreographed an entire fucking amazing skate in one night and, if you’ll remember, _after_ we were at the club--”  
  
“Don’t say that like we went together.” Otabek gripes, which Yuri cannot _believe_ that Otabek is still bitter about that, that's _amazing_.   
  
“—which means I didn’t even have a full proper night to do it so, fuck you, my imagination is fucking fantastic,” Yuri doesn’t pause to draw breath, “and second of all, stop saying such stupid ass shit like it’s a fact. I keep telling you, your opinions are not facts just because you’re have a deep voice, it’s unrelated. Also, again, just so we’re clear, go fuck yourself.”  
  
“We've discussed this, that’s just how I talk, that’s just my voice.” Otabek responds and then meets Yuri's eyes defiantly. “You’re being childish, Yura.”

 _Holy fucking shit_ , Yuri thinks, because that was designed to piss him off. Otabek rarely ever even insinuates that Yuri is being immature (again, even when, objectively, maybe one could say Yuri _is_ being a _bit_ immature). Otabek is one of the few people who doesn’t treat Yuri as a child, but sees beyond the fact that he is small and slim and has pretty hair and a bad attitude or _whatever_ , and actually treats him like a real human with real opinions and real thoughts.  Otabek knows what it’s like to be constricted by other people’s opinions and by the image that has been created for you. He and Yuri don’t cross this line of saying words that would hurt the other; they know where weak spots are and avoid using them as weapons.

This comes pretty fucking close though.

Yuri feels a low sound escape him and before he can even think, he's leaning across the table, gesticulating with his fork--  
  
“I swear to fucking God in heaven, Altin-” He shouts. Otabek’s eyes look like he regrets it, but he doesn’t back down, and leans into to Yuri's space as well, a physical refusal to apologize, “-you piece of shitass motherfu--”  
  
“Okay, okay, okay, stop, stop, stop, stop, _stop_! Time out!”  
  
_Fucking Katsudon._  
  
Yuuri slides across the tatami on his knees and leans on their table, reaching out with his hands to push them apart, ever so slightly.  Victor follows cheerfully, balancing two beer glasses as he scoots over to their table, scrunching his thin cushion along with him. He puts Yuuri’s beer in front of Yuuri delicately, and then leans back and snags the large bottle from their table, bringing it to rest beside his knees. With his hands on his hips he nods at the set-up, as though proud of himself.  
  
“Just back up the conversation,” Yuuri says, placing his hands on either side of his glass. “I think we missed something. We’re confused.”  
  
“About what?” Yuri spits. Can Katsudon not fucking see that he and Beka are engaged in a very serious discussion right now that does not need outside help. Jesus.  
  
“Okay, so,” Yuuri responds, adjusting his yukata sleeves, “I understand this is a hypothetical situation where you are billionaires and are discussing how you would decorate your eight bedroo-”

“Nine bedroom.” Yuri corrects, furiously.  
  
“Six full baths.” Otabek adds, a whisper of irritation in his voice, “and a library with a balcony.”  
  
“A ballet studio, gym, and hot and dry sauna rooms.” Yuri continues, pointing his fork at Yuuri.  
  
“Decent sized practice rink, indoor.” Otabek voice is steady, but insistent.  
  
“Two full kitchens.” Yuri sniffs, stabbing at his food.  
  
“One with a brick oven.” Otabek adds.  
  
Victor is tearing up he’s laughing so hard. Makkachin yips happily beside him and licks his face.  
  
“Okay, yes, okay. Good, good. Understood. Thank y—Thank you.” Yuuri says, rather loudly, before the pair of them can continue. They turn in tandem and he blanches again, nervously pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He turns to Victor who seems surprised to find Yuuri waiting for him to speak, and had been pouring himself more beer. Yuuri makes hand motions that seem to furiously say _help me out here_. Victor points one finger at himself. _Me?_ Yuuri gives him a dead-eyed look, usually reserved for when Victor is being particularly infuriating rinkside.  
  
“I guess,” Victor relents, taking a sip of his beer, and then placing it on the table, tapping his finger against pursed lips, “our main question is, why are you two buying a house together in this particularly well-developed hypothetical scenario? Why not just, you know, separate houses that you could decorate as you prefer?”  
  
_Huh,_ Yuri thinks. He turns to Otabek, at a loss. He doesn’t remember exactly _how_ they got here, just that it is desperately important that Otabek reconsider his interior design preferences. Otabek furrows his brow for a second.  
  
“Mr. Nikiforov,” Otabek begins, clearing his throat, “you can’t just--”  
  
“Aaaaaah,” Victor whines, cutting him off, “call me Vityaaaa, Otabek, I have told you!”  
  
Otabek pauses and looks toward Yuri. Yuri shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. Victor is ridiculous with nicknames, and it’s a dangerous path if you start calling him Vitya, because he takes that as permission to use nicknames with you as much as he wants, and next thing you know he’s calling you _darling Yurochka_. Yuri had to practically fight Victor to get him to stop that and, actually, he still thinks Yakov threatened Victor somehow which, if there is blackmail material on Victor, he would totally like access to it. Also, it had taken exactly one time of Katsudon’s sister calling him “Yurio” for that to somehow become his fucking name in Victor’s head so like. He worries for Otabek. Yuri's not really sure what sort of nicknames Victor could come up with from Otabek’s name, but he certainly doesn’t want Victor calling him 'Beka' any more than Victor already does.   
  
‘ _Mm_ ’, Otabek says, in acknowledgement of Yuri's quick no. They’ve discussed this before.  
  
“Victor,” Otabek relents, “with all due respect, you can’t just change the premise of the argument. If we were billionaires buying a house together, what would we want in the house and how would we design and decorate it—this is the whole crux of the situation.”  
  
"Yes, but ...why?"  Yuuri asks.  

"I don't," Otabek frowns and pauses, "know."  He finishes evenly.

Victor and Yuuri consider this, like it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

 _It makes perfect fucking sense,_ Yuri thinks bitterly.   _S_ _omehow.  Maybe._    _Possibly. Whatever._  
  
“Yeah, and Beka,” He adds with a grimace, “has no fucking sense o--”  
  
“Well then,” Yuuri’s brow furrows, and he looks like he’s steeled himself for a kick to the forehead and decided it to be the better option then letting Yuri finish talking, “if you’re billionaires, why not just have one house one way and buy a second vacation house and do it the other? I mean, that doesn’t go against the main premise, and you _are_ billionaires, so it would almost be weirder if you _didn’t_ have a second home, right?” It sounds a bit like a plea.  He looks to Victor for confirmation.  Victor nods effusively.   _You're so s_ _mart,_ he mouths at Yuuri.  Yuuri blushes furiously and smiles.

 _Jesus Christ,_  Yuri thinks, and also  _h_ _uh._   Yuri eyes Otabek and considers this new option. Otabek looks at him and then tilts his head to the side, as though to ask Yuri’s opinion and also insinuate he’s not _totally_ against the idea. Yuri shrugs, chewing on his lower lip furiously, it is _true_ , they should have two homes in this scenario, he’s just sort of loath to admit it, since Katsudon came up with the idea. Finally, he nods.

“That,” Otabek pauses, “is agreeable, we suppose.”  
  
“Good, good. Good! Okay, good. Yes.” Yuuri seems immensely relieved and downs his glass of beer in one go, exhaling heavily when he’s finished. He holds the empty cup out to Victor and Victor smiles like it’s his birthday as he refills it.  
  
Yuri puts a pin in that situation and tells himself to keep an eye out. He’s not getting dragged into _another_ dance battle, no fucking way.  That's happened way too many times.      
  
Victor smiles benevolently at him. “Aren’t you glad, Yurio? Now you and your Otabek can have two nice homes.” He trills, leaning heavily against Yuuri’s shoulder.  Yuuri smiles down at him, affectionately, touching his nose to Victor's hair.   _Jesus._  
  
“Shut the actual fuck up,” Yuri mutters, stabbing his fork into a piece of meat violently, "and get a room."   
  
Otabek ignores all of these comments and adds more pickled ginger to his bowl. There is a brief pause and then, because Yuri is still pissed and, just so that he and Otabek are clear,--  
  
“The vacation house,” Yuri bites out, “can be decorated your way.” Otabek raises his eyes and meets Yuri’s gaze dead-on. They glower at each other, for a second.  
  
“Fine.” Otabek says, his voice low and tight. “Then we’re spending long summers there.”  
  
“Great!” Yuri hisses, stabbing his fork into another bite. “I love vacations!”  
  
“Me too.” Otabek growls.  
  
“An island home then.” Yuri grits, through clenched teeth.

“Sounds perfect.” Otabek takes a forceful bite. “With a pool.”  
  
“Beach access.” Yuri grits.

“A private beach and the pool.” Otabek says, frustration leaking through in his tone.  
  
“Super!” Yuri shrieks, slamming his hand on the table.  
  
“The best.” Otabek agrees. They stare at each other for a minute and then relent, turning back to their food.  
  
Yuuri puts his head in his hands and makes a small exhausted sound. Victor pats him on the head comfortingly, and looks around for Makkachin.

Yuri sniffs and stares at his bowl. He now feels irritated and bummed and vaguely confused and he has no idea why he feels any of those things. He also thinks he should apologize, and he really doesn’t want to do that in front of Victor and Katsudon, but he’s going to have to because the guilt is welling up inside him. Having a real friend sucks _so much_ sometimes, with the feelings and the empathy and the not being able to just intimidate people into leaving you alone and the- the- the _all of it._ He opens his mouth to apologize, but Otabek’s chopsticks appear in his field of vision before he can, placing some pickled ginger carefully in Yuri’s bowl.

“A dance studio with barres and floor to ceiling windows,” Otabek says, “and a little room for your cat, and two walk-in closets for clothes.”  A peace offering.

“A fucking sick DJ booth,” Yuri whispers, “with the best sound system money can buy and speakers in every room and a small recording studio, for just in case.” He hazards a glance up to meet Otabek's eyes.

“Settled then?” Otabek asks.

“Settled.” Yuri responds.

Otabek gives him a thumbs up. Yuri immediately feels all the tension leave his body and returns the gesture.  
  
“Okay then, Yura.” Otabek nods, twice, with emphasis. “You do the main house up properly then.”  
  
Yuri grins happily and resists the urge to crow with delight.  
  
"Also did you see JJ's instagram." Otabek asks, his hand twitching toward Yuri's phone, like he's going to open up the app and force Yuri to look at it right here and now.  A rescinded peace offering, the _bastard._    
  
Yuri shrieks. "I'm trying," he moans, "to eat, please don't say shit like that, my appetite, I have a delicate constitution, you fucking _idiot."_

"You do not,"  Otabek counters, "have a delicate anything."

Yuri waves this aside.  "Whatever, did you try out that weird snapchat porcupine filter yet.”  
  
"What, but--"  Yuuri stutters, turning to Victor for help.

"Told you they were fine."  Victor says lightheartedly, and grins.  Yuuri looks completely and totally floored, blinking at all of them, and then slowly just resorts to drinking his beer.

"You people."  Yuri hears him mutter under his breath, "are confounding."


End file.
